[color=gray][indent]As the first tendrils of dawn stretched across the sky, Harper emerged from her sleeping bag, a gentle yawn parting her lips. The air was alive with the morning’s symphony of songbirds and seabirds, their melodies a natural celebration of the day’s awakening. She paused, allowing herself a moment to bask in the tranquillity, a stark contrast to the impending Trials that she, Calliope, and Mei had meticulously planned for them all. With a cautious glance at the backpack by her side and the still figure of her teammate, she knew she had to tread lightly. The peace was too precious to shatter, especially when she stood on the cusp of capturing the raw emotion of the previous night.

Her fingers wrapped around the sketchpad, grateful for her foresight in packing it. She eased out of the tent, her movements a mere whisper against the canvas. The memory of her intertwined hands with Gil under the moonlight was as clear and poignant as if it had just occurred. The exact moment sleep had overtaken her was a blur, but the resonance of their shared connection was as palpable as the sketchpad she now held. It was a moment that cried out to be eternalized in art, and she was resolute in her mission to do so. The slight chill in the air be damned. 

Seeking solitude, Harper nestled into a nook near the campsite, where the ocean’s rhythmic cadence against the shore offered a meditative soundtrack to her creative pursuit. The location wasn't the idyllic sandy beach often depicted in paintings, but it had a raw beauty that spoke to her. Settling down, she felt a wave of calm wash over her, a creative energy that had been simmering within her since the previous night now ready to burst forth. She paused to leaf through her sketchpad, stopping at an old drawing of Gil. His eyes, rendered with such clarity, seemed to gaze back at her, bridging the gap between past impressions and the present moment.

[img]https://i.postimg.cc/s2rhfDP4/Gil.jpg[/img]

Inhaling deeply, Harper turned a new leaf and commenced her sketch. Her charcoal pencil moved with confidence, each line a whisper of the story unfolding in her mind. She captured the essence of their hands touching, a symbol of shared honesty and a moment that marked the beginning of something new. The moonlight she drew seemed to dance across their fingers, casting a soft glow that spoke of trust and the possibility of deeper understanding. It was a one-sided narrative, true, but it was hers to tell.

As the camp stirred to life, Harper remained ensconced in her drawing, the world’s reawakening a muted backdrop to her concentrated artistry. The clarion call heralding the day’s commencement was but a subdued echo to the concerto of her creativity. She persisted until the sketch reached fruition, a transient moment now eternally captured in monochrome.

[img]https://i.ibb.co/MRWd6wr/Hands-1.jpg[/img]

With a contented sigh, Harper closed her sketchpad, her secret smile a testament to the personal victory of the morning. She returned to her tent, the sketch tucked safely away, her heart a little lighter. It was time to face the day, armed with the knowledge that she had preserved a piece of the night that had changed her. 

Even if it was only a little. 

[/indent][/color] 
[COLOR=GRAY][CENTER][COLOR=8A9A5B][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/7lGKEWMXVWWTt3X71Bv44I?si=a88abcd53bb34887][img]https://i.imgur.com/defFT2x.jpeg[/img][/url][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=8A9A5B][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Southern Plateau[/I] - [I]Pacific Royal Campus[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Hope in Hell #2.006:[/b][/COLOR] [I]From Dawn to Dystopia[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=8A9A5B][SUP][sub]_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][indent][sub][color=8A9A5B][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR][I]Interactions: Rory- [@webboysurf]; Katja- [@Zoldyck][/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR][COLOR=GRAY][I]The Path of Least Resistance[/I][/color][/right][/SUP][/indent] 

Harper melded into the group just as Jess materialized from the neighbouring campsite, her presence a sudden ripple in the morning routine. Yet, Harper’s gaze was anchored to Katja, the friend she had been eager to connect with since last night. Katja’s dishevelled appearance struck a stark contrast against the backdrop of the bustling camp: her hair was a wild cascade of knots, her face etched with lines of fatigue, and her dark circles stood as a clear testament to a night devoid of rest. This jarring visual of weariness nearly eclipsed the news of Mei’s unexpected departure and the rumours of Haven’s nocturnal escapades with Rory.

Almost. Harper filed away the tidbit about Haven, a mental note for a potentially intriguing dialogue with the winged girl at a later time.

With Tad’s announcements dissolving into the morning air, Harper drifted toward the breakfast queue, her attention flickering back to Katja with the regularity of a lighthouse beam. Her hands moved on autopilot, snagging a muffin and a buttered bagel, her motions as mechanical as her thoughts were organic. She poured herself a cup of tea, the steam rising like the questions in her mind. With her tray laden, she sought out Katja once more, navigating the sea of campers with a navigator’s precision.

[color=#8a9a5b]“Hey…”[/color] Harper’s voice was a soft overture, her smile a practiced sunbeam meant to coax out a mirrored response from Katja as she took the seat opposite hers. [color=#8a9a5b]“You okay?”[/color] 

Katja had been amongst the first to join that morning’s breakfast congregation. After all, she had nothing better to do. Sleep wasn’t an option, it hadn’t been for the entire night. Even if it weren’t for the fact that her tent had been ruined by those vicious red sparks, then she still wouldn’t have been able to rest due to the inner turmoil that even now held a spell on her.

She had sat outside for a large part of the night, letting the midnight rain soak her completely as it washed away the blood from earlier in the evening. She had patched herself up with the first aid kit that had luckily survived Amma’s indifferent onslaught and she managed to hide her wounds under a shirt and her jacket. One she almost never wore, but the current situation necessitated such a measure. As night grew into day the stinging in her shoulders became more pronounced, or perhaps it was that she had grown accustomed to her internal torment.

The tray in front of her was only sparsely filled with randomly selected items, all of which remained untouched. The tea had grown cold, the bagel still plain as a slice of cheese sat next to it. She didn’t even like cheese.

Katja initially didn’t react when Harper sat down in front of her. Not even a blink. There only was a blank stare, straight through the brunette. It was only when she spoke that Katja registered her. She met those hazel eyes of hers. And yet she didn’t. For her stare was empty, as if there wasn’t any sentience behind those blue eyes. Just an ice cold vacancy as her mind was clearly somewhere else.

She blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Her subconsciousness was clearly trying to bring her back to the present. It was at the fourth attempt that light came back to her eyes. She inhaled sharply as if she had suddenly been resurrected from an ageless slumber. Her eyes darted around, from Harper, to her plate, to the table and back to Harper again. She realized she had to play it well if she wanted to hide the truth from the brunette, as surely she’d ask questions about what had happened. There was a tiny voice in the back of her mind that told her to come clean. To just tell the truth. After all, what had Amma done to deserve this level of discretion? 

But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not now.

One corner of Katja’s lip hesitantly rose into a half-smile before she addressed the girl sitting in front of her. [color=#FF7514]“I’m fine.”[/color] She lied. [color=#FF7514]“Just had a rough night, is all. Amma had a nightmare and apparently she loses control of her powers when she does. The entire tent’s been reduced to shreds.”[/color]

Mention of those damnable powers brought up the memory of those wicked coils of energy flaying her skin, causing an involuntary roll of her shoulders before she continued. [color=#FF7514]“Anyways, how was your night?”[/color] She said with as much interest as she could force from herself. She quickly took a bite out of her bagel, not realizing that it was still plain until it was too late.

Harper’s eyes narrowed with concern as she watched Katja mechanically take a bite of her plain bagel, the dry bread clearly lacking any spread to moisten it. Something was obviously on the other’s mind but perhaps a delicate approach was required here. She recalled how Aurora had recoiled under pressure, and intuition told her that the blonde might respond similarly to a heavy hand. 

[color=#8a9a5b]“You uh, didn’t put anything on your bagel,”[/color] Harper pointed out gently. [color=#8a9a5b]“I can get you some cream cheese or jam if you like. I think I saw some packets on the breakfast table.”[/color] She offered a small, reassuring smile, hoping to provide not just condiments but a touch of comfort as well. 

Rory’s entrance was quiet, and met with stares from passers-by. The red in his cheeks was finally dimming as he approached Harper and Katja, tray full of every bit of protein he could scrounge up and a thermos full of coffee. His face was washed with dire concern, sporting the athletics t-shirt and shorts. His eyes were narrowed as he studied Katja, and then her tray. He had her words on the way over. He set his tray down as he sat next to Harper, across from Katja. He wasn’t good at subtext, unless it was slapping him in the face obvious. And this was a punch to the gut. He weighed his options. Harper was going good cop.

Rory could do bad cop. He kept his voice hushed, but his words were sharp. [color=04cf3a]”This isn’t a rough night kind of look, Kruger. You look like Hell. I mean-”[/color] Rory emphatically motioned towards her jacket and her tray. [color=04cf3a]”What’s with the jacket, huh? Or the lack of food? I’ve seen you eat more at half-time of a Hyperball match than this.”[/color] Rory reached over, and picked up the cheese, waving the floppy slice to solidify his point. [color=04cf3a]”You don’t even eat cheese, man!”[/color] He took a breath, tossing the slice of cheese onto his plate and scooping up his cup of oatmeal to set on her tray. [color=04cf3a]”You don’t have to say what’s wrong… but don’t give Legolas here the run-around.”[/color]

Katja’s eyes nervously darted from Harper to Rory and back again. They knew she was lying, or at the very least omitting most of the story. But she couldn’t back down either. Too much was at risk. So instead of yielding, she doubled down as she took another bite of that dry bagel before replying to Rory in an irritated tone. [color=#FF7514]“You try sleeping through a storm like that without a roof over your head, Rory! See how well your night goes then!”[/color] She tugged at the front of her jacket, careful so as to not accidentally expose any of the bandages wrapped around her shoulders. [color=#FF7514]“I’m wearing this because I’ve been freezing all night!”[/color]

[color=#FF7514]“As for my food…”[/color] She looked down at the measly scraps that she normally wouldn’t even spare a glance at. [color=#FF7514]“I’ve been here for far longer than the rest of you. It’s obviously my second serving!”[/color] She lied again, the volume of her voice gradually increasing as others were now noticeably perking up to listen in. She then noticed her cold tea, which was obvious evidence to the contrary of what she claimed. She reached for the cup after another quick dart of the eyes to both of her team members before chugging it in its entirety. She wasn’t, however, going to contest the cheese. She knew it’d make her retch.

Katja kept staring at the cup as she set it down. Her eyes glazed over momentarily as the cold liquid flowing through her reminded her of the frigid rain mere hours ago. And about what had transpired to take her out there in the open to begin with. She let out a deep sigh before looking back up at her fellow Blackjacks. [color=#FF7514]“Look, I know it looks weird. But with the Foundation knocking on our doors, is it really so hard to believe that Amma could have a nightmare? I mean, it’s not like they have a good reputation.”[/color] She knew she was talking rubbish, but hopefully it was plausible enough that they wouldn’t dismiss it out of hand.

Harper's gaze remained fixed on Katja, watching as Katja's fingers clutched her cup, her vacant stare suggesting she was miles away, lost in the tempest of the previous night's events. Whatever it may be, Harper's intuition told her there was a hidden narrative there, a secret pain that Katja was guarding fiercely. The sight of her friend's forced composure, the subtle tension in her shoulders, resonated with the brunette, stirring memories of her own past struggle. She remembered  Katja had been her rock then, her steadfast friend in a moment of doubt. 

Now, it was Harper's turn to be her anchor in the storm. 

As Katja's half-hearted attempt at an explanation dissipated into the morning air, Harper's features softened. [color=#8a9a5b]“Katja,”[/color] she said, her voice a gentle yet firm anchor, [color=#8a9a5b]“it's completely natural to feel overwhelmed, especially with the Foundation looming over us. But remember, we're more than just a team…we're a family, and we take care of our own, no matter what.”[/color] Harper's words were steady and sincere, a verbal embrace meant for one of her dearest friends. She gestured between her and Rory as she continued, [color=#8a9a5b] “Lean on us, share the burden. Please….” [/color] 

Rory gave a nod towards Harper, backing her up. He didn't want to believe Katja was lying… but her story wasn't adding up. He took a sip from his thermos, Harper's words resonated a little too close to home. [color=04cf3a]”If all that happened was your tent got wrecked, you could have woken any of us up for shelter. Same is true if your dorm caught fire, y'know?[/color] He paused, lifting up the slice of cheese to take a nibble. He shot Harper a brief glance. There was another elephant to address, given Katja’s state. [Color=04cf3a]”If you're feeling under the weather, Kat, there's no shame in sitting out the Trials this year.”[/color]

Katja avoided the pair’s gaze. She knew she couldn’t fool them and anything she’d say to the contrary would only serve to deepen the hole she was digging herself into. At that moment she was tempted to come clean. To tell them everything. Not just of last night, but truly everything. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words would follow. Not immediately anyway.

Recalling the night before, it took her a moment before she spoke up. The level barely being that of a whisper. [color=#FF7514]“All I wanted was to be your…”[/color]

Her jaw clenched shut, almost by instinct. She could feel it crawling up the back of her spine. That sensation she’d felt earlier. Her entire body tensed, as if on edge, like an animal driven into a corner. Her hand slowly closed into a fist, the stainless steel cup crumpling up as if it were made out of paper. It would not let her speak, not let her cry out for help even if she wanted it so desperately. 

Katja finally looked up at her friends, her own expression noticeably hardened from mere seconds ago. She could see it in their eyes. That sickening emotion she hated so much. Pity. They felt pity for her. Pity was for those who could not bear their own cross. Pity was to be reserved for the weak. And she was [i]not[/i] weak. 

She narrowed her eyes as she met those of her teammates. [color=#FF7514]“If you’ve got something to say,”[/color] Katja spoke through gritted teeth, with more of a growl than actual speech, [i][color=#FF7514]“then say it!”[/color][/i] 

Harper’s heart clenched as she watched Katja’s struggle, the scene unfolding before her as if stuck in time. The same resistance. The same refusal to be seen as weak. 

A familiar ache of guilt and helplessness swirled in her chest, like a weight she couldn't shake. The weight of her memories threatened to suffocate her, leaving Harper feeling stuck and unsure of how to react.

[color=#8a9a5b] “I’m just… trying to help you,”[/color] the brunette finally managed through gritted teeth, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. She clenched her fists in her lap, fighting the tremor that threatened to betray her own feelings. Her eyes, once locked on Katja’s, now fell away, retreating from the potential storm brewing in her friend’s gaze. She feared what she might find reflected there—anger, rejection, or the haunting echo of disdain.

Rory bit his tongue at Katja’s demand. He knew escalating this was only going to make things worse, as more looks were levied their way. He turned to Harper, hoping she would have the answer to this one. But he recognized the pain she felt. He looked back towards Katja, his own emotions rising. She wanted to know what he really wanted to say? He didn’t understand… he had been clear. Katja was the one who wasn’t making any sense. She was deflecting, like Lorcán had the previous day. She was keeping secrets. Everyone was keeping secrets. At least he came clean, they were already hard enough to read as is. Lashing out at Harper to keep a secret was uncalled for. More uncalled for than Lorc, but at least Rory could take the heat. He hadn’t seen Harper like this before, not in public. Hell, he’d never felt the need to defend her. If anything, he always expected her to be defending him.

Is this why he was so… angry?

It wasn’t just anger… it was determination. He hadn’t busted his ass the day before for Lorc and Kat to fuck things up at the finish line. Kat fumbling the ball in the end zone… the thought of that alone boiled his blood. Whoever was sitting across from him wasn’t the Kat who stood opposite him on the field the past few years. This Kat was lashing out like a hurt animal. The sight of her dug something up deep inside of him. Rory leaned forward, his tone serious. [color=04cf3a]”Fine, you want my thoughts, Kruger… if you’re sick or injured, you should be riding the bench. If you can’t play your position, the team suffers. It isn’t my fault or Harper’s , it isn’t the team’s. Blame Amma, blame the Foundation, blame yourself for not finding shelter.”[/color] Rory’s nostrils flared, his body tense as he met every ounce of Katja’s challenge. His next words matched her growl. [color=04cf3a]”Don’t make the team suffer, Kruger. Apologize.”[/color]

For a brief moment the darkness that clouded Katja’s vision parted as she looked upon Harper. And how she had hurt her. That look in her eyes, she recognized it. For it was her, mere hours ago, who had looked exactly like that at a friend who had wounded her. Why was she like this? Why did she lash out against those who tried to help her? They only meant well.

Just like she had meant well.

But then Rory spoke. She knew he meant well. She knew he was right. But that didn’t matter. Not to [i]that[/i] which now held a grip on her mind, on her very soul. Her eyes hardened again as she turned her gaze to the boy she had secretly loved for years. Her blue eyes cold like ice, a slight twitch betraying the tempest of emotions that were raging in her head. He didn’t deserve her fury, none of them did. She knew it, she knew it was unfair to them. Yet she could not stop it. [i]It[/i] had its cage broken the night before, and now there was no putting it back in. And the insinuation of her needing to be [i]benched[/i] only added fuel to the fire of her rage.

[color=#FF7514]“I…”[/color] Katja snarled at him, clenching her jaw like an iron grip. She rose from her seat. She knew she had to stop herself, halt it from escalating even further. 

[color=#FF7514]“Am not…”[/color] Katja leaned over the table, eyes wide as they fixed on Rory as the corner of her mouth gave off slight twitches at the barely contained anger that she unjustly doled out to her good friend. She had to find a way to cease this. But before she could even act, the final word rolled out in a low, rumbling growl. 

[color=#FF7514][i]“Weak!”[/i][/color]

[i]Enough![/i]

In one swift motion, Katja planted her head against the table desk, the plastic breaking apart under the sudden blow. She could feel a sharp piece cut her cheek. It wasn’t a blow that would normally hurt her, but she didn’t use her powers for this act. She couldn’t risk it, not in her current state.

She closed her eyes as she exhaled a slow, shaky breath before finally raising her head back up to face her two friends. The harsh darkness in her eyes was gone, replaced by regret and sorrow. Her gaze slowly shifted from Rory to Harper and back to Rory again. Her vision gradually grew blurry as she could feel that odd sensation of yesterday's return.

With a trembling lip, she looked at the pair before her, uttering only a soft whisper. [color=#FF7514]“I…”[/color]

She swallowed before she tried again. [color=#FF7514]“I…”[/color]

[color=#FF7514]“I’m sorry.”[/color]

As Rory's words yanked her from the depths of her swirling thoughts, Harper’s eyes, now brimming with compassion, focused on Katja. She watched, her mind still moving in slow motion, as her friend's defences finally crumbled. The anger that had once blazed in Katja's eyes had extinguished, replaced by a dawning regret that etched lines of sorrow across her face. Harper had never seen her like this before—it was like witnessing a fragment of Katja’s soul being laid bare, torn apart and exposed to the harsh light of reality.

The sight struck Harper to her core. The familiar ache of guilt and helplessness continued to swirl in her chest, her past refusing to release its hold on her.

But this was not her sister; this was Katja. And Katja needed her. She needed her [i]friends[/i]. 

Harper wasn’t sure she could honestly handle the responsibility of piecing her friend’s shattered soul back together, her trembling hand over Katja’s betraying this worry. Yet the warmth of the touch was her silent promise of support, regardless. 

[color=#8a9a5b] “We don’t think you’re weak,”[/color] she said softly, [color=#8a9a5b] “In fact…I’ve always thought you were the strongest of us all.”[/color]

She could feel the intensity of the moment, the charged air around them as other campers stole glances. But Harper remained focused on Katja, pushing back the tears her eyes wished to shed. Now was not the time nor the place. 

[color=#8a9a5b] “[i]I’m[/i] sorry.”[/color]

Rory remained motionless, his face frozen in a mixture of rage and pain. He looked down at what remained of the table they were eating at, the food and coffee now strewn about. His mind played catchup, replaying the moments before Katja’s outburst in his head like he was watching tapes after a big game. But it didn’t feel real. It felt like he was watching someone else making the plays. That couldn’t have been him, could it? Katja was hurting… why would he egg her on? Why would he insult her, put her down? Why would he tell her to blame herself? Is that what he thought? Every new thought and question left him feeling more empty and confused… and more frustrated. While Harper and Katja shared a moment, Rory got up and turned away. The stares got to him. His eyes scanned everyone gathered, searching desperately for Haven. But he gave up after only a second. Haven had asked him to help Katja… to cheer her up.

[color=04cf3a][i]If you can’t play the position…[/i][/color]

They weren’t his words, but he had said them. He looked back, briefly, towards Harper and Katja. The sorrow and regret on their faces shot daggers into his chest, though the pain was duller than he expected. It almost felt like he wasn’t… well, Rory. He looked away, down at the mess. His words were soft, but firm. It didn’t even feel like his voice. [color=04cf3a]"I’ll clear this up, It’s my fault. Strings… get her cleaned and patched up. She’s bleeding. We’ve got to get suited up soon.”[/color] He knelt down among the broken pieces of table and scattered food and trays, doing what he could to scoop up food onto one of the dented trays so he could throw it away. He paused after a moment, looking up towards Harper. He couldn’t bear to look at Kat, not after what he said. If he did, this would become real. [color=04cf3a]"Swing by my tent… I’ve got some energy drinks and sports drinks in my bag. She’s going to need something in her system.”[/color] With his orders set, Rory knelt and continued cleaning up the mess.

Katja turned her hand around in order to give Harper’s own a gentle squeeze. A silent show of appreciation for the calming gesture. She needed it. She took a deep breath after wiping away her tears with her sleeve, collecting herself before finally looking down at the one who had been the undeserving target of her ire.

She gingerly reached down for the back of Rory’s neck, slowly pulling him back to his feet. The exertion caused a painful sting in her shoulder but Katja didn’t show any outwards sign of that, except for a small twitch in the corner of her mouth. Then she leaned in for an embrace with both of her friends, gently squeezing them together in her arms as gently tapped both their foreheads with her own. [color=#FF7514]“Thank you.”[/color] She said tenderly. [color=#FF7514]“Thank you, for being there for me.”[/color]

[color=#FF7514]“I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”[/color]

And with that, the trio slowly disentangled, Harper parting ways with them for now. She felt the gravity of their shared experience settle in her chest, a poignant mix of sorrow and solace. It wasn’t until she had taken a few steps towards the first aid kit that the girl realized she had omitted something crucial from the conversation—the matter of Amma. Yet, as Harper glanced back at Katja and Rory, witnessing the fragile peace that had descended upon them, her lips curved into a small, involuntary smile. 

Perhaps it was all for the best. She would just have to talk to the raven-haired girl herself. [hr] 
[color=#ffffff]“Alright, you guys put this together, I know you can set a great time, but also try to have fun. For some of you it’s a first run, but for all of you, it’s the last time you’ll get to do this. Savour it, work together and I know you’ll do great.”[/color]

Harper nodded firmly at Tad’s words, feeling the weight of the moment settle upon her shoulders. Her eyes swept over her teammates, a sense of pride swelling within her as they all pumped themselves up for what was to come. 

Yet, as Harper prepared to join the fray, an unexpected tug pulled her from formation, her expression morphing into one of surprise.

[color=#ffffff]“Sorry, I just remembered Jess gave this to me this morning. You must have dropped this yesterday.”[/color] Tad explained handing her student card back to her. 

The card had always felt like a tangible piece of her existence at P.R.C.U., typically a constant presence on her. Confusion clouded Harper's thoughts—when had it slipped away? The prospect of almost being sidelined due to a lapse in attention was practically unthinkable.

[color=#8a9a5b]“Thank you, Tad. I hadn’t noticed it missing,”[/color] the brunette expressed sincerely, her brow furrowing slightly as she secured the card more carefully this time. Lingering on the mishap served no purpose either way. 

With her card back in place,  Harper reclaimed her spot at the queue’s end. She observed her peers vanish into the labyrinth, the verdant walls engulfing them. Before her own entry, she swiped her card, the A.R. suit’s hum enveloping her, igniting a familiar excitement.

[color=#ffffff]“Give ‘em hell, Baxter,”[/color]Tad encouraged her, with Harper responding with an assertive thumbs-up and a confident smirk as she finally stepped through. 

However, as Harper plunged into the simulation, the scene morphed alarmingly, the once-familiar maze dissolving into a sterile, clinical nightmare. The whispers of “Tiamat” seemed to seep from the very walls, sending a shiver down her spine. 

This[i] [/i]was [i]nothing[/i] like they’d planned.
 
Harper watched Lorcán’s frustration with a calm, analytical gaze, shaking her head slowly when he glanced over at Calliope and then at her. No, they had not planned this. This would have been poking the proverbial bear that was her raven-haired teammate, who clearly had nothing to do with it either given her reaction. So what then? How could they have-
 
Harper’s eyes widened, the realization dawning on her. Her card! Whoever was responsible had used her card! The card that she had, somehow, carelessly lost. [i]That’s [/i]why they were in any of this mess, to begin with. 

Because of her stupid carelessness. 

Engulfed in self-reproach, Harper couldn’t even appreciate Lorcán’s emergent command or meet the anticipatory gaze of Haven, whose voice she had heard just as darkness ensued.

Everything that was happening here, that will happen, was her fault. 
  
[/color]